


the way things change

by preciousthings



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Chefs, Breaking Up & Making Up, Chopped AU, Hopeful Ending, M/M, Post-Break Up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-08
Updated: 2018-01-08
Packaged: 2019-02-28 03:48:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13262994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/preciousthings/pseuds/preciousthings
Summary: “I’m Kale,” he says. “And I already know that kale is a vegetable.”(or: Kale is Jake’s past, and this is Jake’s present. He has a good job in a good city. He’s doing what he loves, and he’s never been closer to his dreams coming true than he is right now.)





	the way things change

**Author's Note:**

  * For [silentghosts](https://archiveofourown.org/users/silentghosts/gifts).



> hi, silentghosts! i really hope you enjoy this. i know the ship wasn't on your requested list, but i've been dying to write them since that [ping pong](https://www.tsn.ca/video/jake-bean-ping-pong-wizard~1291729) came out! shoutout to season 27, episode 7 of chopped, too. 
> 
> thank you to j and a for reading this over. title from 'rivers and roads' by the head and the heart.

“I actually know Kale Clague,” Jake nods, recording his pre-competition talking head interview. “We went to college together.”

The person behind the camera makes a hand motion, like she wants Jake to expand on it, but Jake doesn’t know what else he can say without it being too much.

“We were pretty good friends at school. He’s a great chef and a fun person to cook with and against. We haven’t been in the same kitchen since we graduated, so it’ll definitely be great to compete against him today.”

It’s all true, but Jake doesn’t tell the whole story. It’s personal; it should stay only between him and Kale. This is _Chopped_. He’s going to be competing on Chopped against Kale.

The thing is: Kale Clague is Jake’s ex-boyfriend. They were a thing until they weren’t, and Jake’s mostly over it.

It’s more complicated than that, though. They weren’t just a _thing_ ; they were together for over two years. It wasn’t a quiet breakup; it was loud and it _hurt_ , and if Jake says he’s over it, he’s lying.

 

 

 

Jake is 18 when he meets Kale at college orientation. They don’t really talk then, but how could Jake forget a culinary arts student who is literally named after a vegetable?

It’s his second day of classes, and he’s away from home for the first time ever. He’s not exactly homesick, but it hasn’t been easy so far. Kale slides into the seat next to Jake in one of his gen-ed classes.

“I’m Kale,” he says. “And I already know that kale is a vegetable.”

“I wasn’t going to—”

“I figured I’d just get it out of the way before you even had a chance to, you know? People love pointing out the irony in me, Kale Clague, being a culinary student.”

Jake shrugs. “I’m a legume. Jake Bean.”

The rest is history, as they say. History worth remembering, even if it hurts. Even if Jake’s history with Kale has an ending that’s far from a happy, it still shaped the person Jake is now.

It’s like this: the first time Kale kisses Jake, it’s freshman year, and they’re both sleep-deprived from cramming for their nutrition final together. Kale leans across Jake’s bed and closes the space between them. Like it’s easy, like it’s effortless. It _is_ effortless. Kale is cute and charming. It’s no wonder Jake fell for him so easily.

It’s a relationship. They’re taking it slow, but it’s Jake’s first college relationship, and he really likes Kale.

It helps that Kale really likes him back.

They’re good together. Similar interests, compatible personalities, all of that. Jake just loves being around Kale. Loves the way he feels when he’s around Kale. He feels fucking invincible. He doesn’t think he’s ever smiled so much in his life.

Kale tells Jake he loves him before they go home for summer break. Jake says it back, smiling, like he’s never been more sure about something. Home for both of them is far. Five hours apart. 500 kilometers. They manage. It makes coming back to school at the end of August _that_ much sweeter, because Jake gets to see Kale again, and this time, they’re sharing a dorm with two of Kale’s friends.

Sophomore year is even better than freshman year was. Jake is spending a lot of time in the kitchen for class, and he has Kale, who is also spending a lot of time in the kitchen for class. They spend a lot of time together.

“Are you two ever apart?” Nolan, one of their roommates, asks when they both get back from the library late during midterms week.

They both pause to think.

“I ate lunch with Dillon and Dante today,” Jake says, because he did.

“I went grocery shopping alone,” Kale says.

“Did you get me—”

“Red gatorade and coffee pods?” Kale cuts Jake off before nodding.

“Too good to me,” Jake smiles, leaning in to kiss Kale, short and sweet.

“Gross, get a room,” Nolan says, so Kale takes Jake’s hand and leads him down the hallway to their room.

They’re still really fucking good.

Jake didn’t realize how bad things had gotten between them until it was too late, because it happened slowly.

Junior year is hard. Everything gets more intense, even then, even with graduation still two years out. Jake starts to apply for internships and apprenticeships, but Kale’s applying for all the same ones.

It’s not a secret that Jake and Kale are at the top of their class, in a constant battle for 1st and 2nd; usually it doesn’t matter much, but whenever it does, Kale is always edging Jake out to come out on top. It doesn’t help that they’re both naturally competitive people. That side of Jake had never come out with Kale before, and Jake had only seen it in Kale a few times.

It gets to Jake without him even realizing it at first, but when he does, it leads to nights without talking to each other, and stress baking _so many desserts_ for Dante and Dillon.

They break up five weeks and two days into senior year.

It’s neither of their faults, and both of their faults, probably. It seems like it comes out of nowhere, but looking back, Jake can see where it all started going wrong. They’re fighting, grasping at _nothing_ to see if maybe, _maybe_ they could make this work.

They can’t make it work. Kale stops coming to Jake’s dorm, Jake stops spending the night at Kale’s apartment. They only see each other in class, and when they graduate, Kale is first in their class. Jake always knew he would be.

 

 

 

None of that matters right now, though. It doesn’t matter that a long time ago, Jake loved Kale Clague enough to consider spending his entire life with him. It’s all in his past.

Kale is Jake’s past, and this is Jake’s present. He has a good job in a good city. He’s doing what he loves, and he’s never been closer to his dreams coming true than he is right now.

God, if he wins, he can finally open his own restaurant like he’s been dreaming about since before he started college. This could really be what makes his dreams come true.

And he has to beat Kale to make it happen. It’d be, like, the first time that ever happened, but Jake’s more determined than ever to make it happen.

Let the fucking games begin.

 

 

 

Jake likes to think he’s pretty creative in the kitchen.

He likes to experiment, and he does it often enough, but it’s usually in his kitchen at home, and not the Chopped kitchen, where an experiment gone wrong could get him chopped.

It’s pretty fucking unfortunate that all of the baskets are love-themed, though.

He takes a deep breath, looking at the unopened appetizer basket in front of him. Now isn’t the time to let his emotions get the best of him. He needs to keep his head in it, and ignore everything happening to his right.

(His left, too, but he doesn’t know Cale Makar or Taylor Raddysh. He knows Kale too well. He knows his cooking style, and the way he moves in a kitchen. They used to cook together all the time.)

It’s easy to shut everything out once he starts cooking. He’s thankful for the oysters in the basket, because he can cook them, and getting them out of the shell requires a lot of concentration. He’s in the zone, and he knows exactly what he needs to do.

Appetizer is a _breeze_ , and Kale is still here. Cale Makar gets chopped.

Entree round comes with the same shaken focus that the appetizer round started with, but he bounces back quickly and cooks, maybe, the best steak he’s ever made.

Taylor Raddysh gets chopped, and if the judge’s comments are anything to go by, Jake had a better round than Kale.

Little victories; Jake will take this.

It’s just the two of them standing there, then. It’s the first time Jake’s really let himself look at Kale. He looks the same, but older.

Fuck, he’s in Jake’s head now. Kale’s always been better at desserts. Jake stress baked his way through their breakup, but Kale is a better baker. It’s the only thing on his mind the entire half hour he has to cook, but he gets through, somehow, and the chocolate-pomegranate mousse with a port wine reduction glaze he ends up with could definitely be much worse. This is actually, like, successful.

He’s so close to the win. To $10,000. To his dreams coming true and being able to open a restaurant. To _finally_ winning something over Kale, but—

Jake’s dessert is the one on the chopping block.

Kale wins.

Jake can lie and say he’s okay, and he’s going to have to be for the camera, but he really thought he had this one in the bag. He thought that maybe time and distance would prove that he _could_ beat Kale.

 

 

 

They both finish up doing post-competition interviews around the same time, and Jake’s on his phone, not quite stalling, but maybe building up some courage to do something stupid, like talk to Kale.

Someone taps him on the shoulder and he jumps a little, not expecting it. He turns around, and Kale is right there.

“Hey,” he says.

“Uh, hi,” Jake says. “Congrats.”

“Thanks,” Kale says, and this is so uncomfortable. Jake wants it to end immediately. “Do you want to catch up? We can grab food somewhere, and just— I don’t know.”

“I live nearby,” Jake says before his brain is able to catch up to his impulsive heart. “If you want to just come over, instead. I can make something fast.”

It’s smart, despite it being impulsive, to catch up with his ex somewhere that isn’t public.

“Yeah, that… I’d like that.”

Jake smiles, tight, and leads Kale out of the studio. The subway stop is right down the block, and he’s only two stops down the line, but it’s the most uncomfortable silence between the two of them in the loudest city in the world.

“How long have you been living here?” Kale asks, when they’re halfway up the stairs to Jake’s apartment.

“I’ve been in New York since graduation, but in this specific apartment about a year.”

Jake unlocks the door and holds it open for Kale. “Dillon said you went out to L.A. after graduation.”

“Yeah,” Kale nods. “I’m actually in the process of moving here, though. At least part time.”

Jake goes into the kitchen, and Kale follows.

“Is mac and cheese okay? Cabinets are pretty sparse right now, but I know I have the stuff for that.”

“Dude,” Kale says, “I haven’t had good mac and cheese since college.”

“What?”

“Yours is still my favorite,” Kale admits, quietly.

“Kale—”

“Sorry. I didn’t have to bring college up at all.”

“So are we just going to ignore it and pretend college never happened? We dated for almost all of it, Kale,” Jake says. He’s started taking pots and ingredients out of cabinets, doing anything so he doesn’t have to look at Kale. “Are we pretending I wasn’t still heartbroken when we graduated? And that it took me so long to get over it enough to be able to lie and say I did when I really didn’t?”

Kale is quiet for a really long time. Jake turns the faucet on to fill a pot. He turns it off, and the silence is consuming them again.

“We can never be like that again,” he says, eventually, and Jake isn’t even sure what that _means_.

He doesn’t reply, and busies himself with cooking.

“We’re adults now, Jake. We’re never going to be 18 again. A lot has changed. I’ve grown up a lot since graduation, I think.”

“I have too,” Jake nods, because that’s something he can agree with.

“But I think—” Kale stops, and takes a deep breath. “I think something that hasn’t changed is that I know that I messed up senior year.”

“Messed up?”

“Letting you go,” Kale answers, so quickly he almost cuts Jake off. “It’s the biggest mistake I’ve ever made, and I used salt instead of sugar in sugar cookies once.”

Jake laughs, quiet and small, because they were together when Kale did that, and Jake remembers trying one. “Those were so bad,” he says.

“I loved you. I still do,” Kale says. “Trying again is a lot to ask.”

“It’s been years,” Jake says.

“But you’re still—you’re Jake Bean. Still, after all these years, I still know so much about you.”

“And I know a lot about you, too.”

“It doesn’t have to be anything serious right now, but I’ve done a lot of thinking about what I want, and I’m moving to New York, and I want to try again, Jake.”

“We have a lot of catching up to do,” Jake says, the closest thing to something affirmative he can say without just saying yes. 

"Relearning each other," Kale nods. "I know that it's not going to happen overnight, or ever, maybe."

"Can we leave this at a maybe and start tonight?" Jake asks. It's a start, a small one. 

Kale nods, and a relaxed smile comes up across his face.

They have a lot of work to do, and Jake already knows that starting a new relationship with his ex after four years apart is going to take a lot of work, and he’s not even sure if he can trust Kale entirely with his heart again, but.

Fuck it, he’s done letting his head get in the way of his heart. He still loves Kale, and Kale is standing here right now, asking him to try again. How could he possibly say no?

If he gives himself time to rationally think it over, maybe he’d be angry, or upset, but right now he feels strangely optimistic that this could be good. That they could be good again.

 


End file.
